The Artisan Heart Page 4

  Hayden worked furiously to assess and treat his patients before moving them on to be assessed by other clinicians. While he loathed rushing his work, he was determined to make it to the gala.

  He’d showered and dressed in his suit pants and shirt. His jacket and tie were hanging in his locker. A taxi had been booked to ferry him to the Convention Centre the moment he clocked off.

  A flurry of texts had come in from Bernadette in the last hour and, each time, Hayden had reassured her.

  As he finished with a child with a mild case of croup, Hayden swung into the fishbowl and plopped down into a chair. Magda slipped a medical record in front of him.

  “Don’t put any more cases in front of me. I’m going to write up this discharge note, then I’m out of here.”

  “No problems, Doctor.”

  Behind him, the emergency department’s radio receiver squawked. Every head in the vicinity turned towards it.

  Hayden stiffened.

  It was a priority alert.

  Several nurses and doctors crowded into the fishbowl as a voice sounded over the comm. One of the nurses stepped in and turned up the volume.

  “…En route with a male and female child. ETA five minutes. Male approximately six years old. Female four years old. Rear-seat passengers in a head-on MVA. Male child unsecured. Repeat. Male child unsecured. Ejected through the windscreen. Query significant head and spinal injuries. Female patient secured in seat but vehicle has impacted with a light pole on passenger side, rear. Child has sustained spinal injuries and lacerations.”

  Even before the ambulance officer had finished her report, emergency lights went off in the department and an alert tone sounded, signalling a major trauma was inbound.

  Hayden’s stomach plunged and he exchanged a glance with Magda. At that moment, the department’s head consultant, Ainsley Rafter, marched into the fishbowl and clapped his hands together. “Okay, people. You heard the call! Both resus teams to the Trauma Room. I’m gonna need all hands on deck.”

  The consultant slapped a hand on Hayden’s shoulder. “That includes you, too, Luschcombe. I’ll need your eyes on this. None of the others are going to be able to spot things as quickly as you.”

  Hayden turned to a computer terminal and punched in a series of keystrokes, bringing up some preliminary information on the incoming trauma victims. His clinical mind began to work, formulating the scenarios the team would likely face and committing them to memory. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and he fished it out, his thumb hesitating over the screen. A new message from Bernadette had just flashed up.

  Are you on the way?

  While focusing on the computer screen in front of him, Hayden tapped out a response.

  Major trauma inbound. Will be held up.

  He hit the send button as Magda approached with a full-length disposable gown. “I’m not going to let you get so much as a water splatter on that shirt.”

  Slipping the sleeves onto his arms, she noticed Hayden’s worried face.

  “Bernadette’s going to kill me,” he said. “But I can’t leave. Not now.”

  “We’ll get you there yet.” Magda tried to sound reassuring. “As soon as I spy your opposite number, I’ll get them to take over.”

  The wail of ambulance sirens grew louder and all staff mobilised at once.

  Doors opened at the other end of the department and two gurneys appeared, shepherded by green-uniformed ambulance officers. On them, the bloodied figures of two children lay still as oxygen masks were held over their faces and monitors riding with them alarmed urgently.

  As Hayden steeled himself to attend to them, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He ignored it and went to his small patients.

  HAYDEN STUMBLED FROM THE TRAUMA Room and yanked the bloodied gown from his body, screwing it up and tossing it into a bin. Even with the full coverage afforded by the gown, he noted that it hadn’t prevented blood spatters from soaking through and staining his expensive shirt.

  Numb, he continued out through a side door to the staff room, where he collapsed into an armchair. The hands of the clock on the wall nudged towards 11:40 p.m.

  He was too shattered to care.

  They’d lost the boy. Despite their best efforts, they had been unable to arrest the rise of the pressure building in the child’s skull. The trauma had been too great. The child had been declared brain dead.

  The girl was still alive but had sustained critical injuries, requiring emergency surgery if there was to be any chance of saving her. Hayden’s quick thinking and intervention on that score had kept her alive long enough to get her to the operating table, but it would be several hours before they knew whether his team’s work had been successful.

  Hayden rubbed his eyes. Every muscle in his body ached and his head thumped with the onset of a migraine. Were he not so exhausted, he would have searched out a couple of aspirin.

  He became aware of a presence and he lowered his hand to see Magda, who appeared equally wrecked, holding a coffee cup in each hand.

  “The boss sent out for an order for the whole department. I figured you’d appreciate a standard. One sugar?”

  At the aroma of the coffee, Hayden managed to tip himself forward. “Thank you.” His voice cracked.

  As he took a sip, Magda reached into her trouser pocket and took out his smartphone. “I figured I better pick this up for you after you chucked it across the Resus Room earlier. Luckily, it doesn’t appear any the worse for wear.”

  Hayden opened his palm and Magda set the device down into it. The screen was dark.

  “I turned it off,” Magda explained. “It has a little charge left but you’ll need to plug it in sooner rather than later.”

  Magda lowered herself into an adjacent chair and sipped from her cup while Hayden thumbed the power switch on the smartphone and waited as the screen flickered to life.

  A series of new message bubbles flashed one after the other onto the lock screen.

  How could you do this to me!

  You knew this was important!

  Hayden, I NEED you!

  You can still make it here!?

  Forget it. Fuck you. Don’t bother coming home.

  The last text had been sent at ten o’clock. Hayden stared at the screen while Magda studied him over her spectacles.

  “How bad is it?” she ventured.

  Hayden blew a puff of air that vibrated against his lips. “Terrible. You know, I was supposed to meet the Premier tonight. I’ve quite possibly jeopardised things for her.”

  Magda winced, trying to offer a note of sympathy. “Would you like a lift home?”

  Hayden shook his head. “No. I’ll cycle. It’ll give me some time to refine my explanation.”

  “An MVA and a double trauma with the death of a child needs an explanation?” Magda frowned.

  Pitching forward, Hayden set the coffee cup down. “Yes,” he replied, deadpan. “Thank you. For the coffee.”

  Hayden patted Magda’s shoulder as he left the lounge.

  LEANING HIS BIKE AGAINST THE wall of the garage, Hayden slipped his backpack off. He sidestepped past the Holden, knocking over a shovel, which clattered onto the concrete floor. He hissed at the offending tool but left it, instead making for the side door.

  He was so tired, he wasn’t going to allow anything to prevent him from getting into the house and collapsing into bed. Bernadette couldn’t have been serious in her text; she was just pissed off. He had already decided he would leave her alone for tonight and sleep in the study rather than try to assuage her anger. Better to try and deal with the fallout when they had both had enough sleep and could think clearly.

  He stepped up to the glass doors and tested them. They were locked securely.

  “Dammit,” he cursed under his breath.

  He set his backpack down, fished inside his pocket for his key, and let himself inside. Removing his shoes, Hayden was preparing to tiptoe through the living room when he heard a sound from upstairs.


  He stopped and craned his neck up at the ceiling.

  It was a scuffling sound, followed by…

  Voices?

  The sounds of a struggle?

  Hayden’s hackles went up and any thoughts of his wife being angry were pushed aside by fear for her safety. He searched around for something he could use as a weapon. His mind went to the shovel lying on the floor of the garage but he dismissed this option when a woman’s cry reached his ears.

  Berni!

  Hayden bolted towards the stairs. The sounds were coming from the second floor. Hayden flew up the stairs three at a time before flinging himself around the first landing. As he prepared to take the final steps, he twisted his ankle on an obstacle and lurched sideways.

  Disoriented, he struggled to keep himself from falling backward and gripped the banister. Hayden squinted at the floor, seeing the culprit: a strappy high-heeled shoe.

  The noises from upstairs echoed in his ears as if they were traversing a great distance. His mind fractured as realisation set in. These were not the sounds of struggle.

  Reaching the top of the stairs, his stomach rolled. He stepped up to the door of the bedroom and placed his hand against the frame.

  He knew what was happening, even without seeing it. He suppressed a rising urge to vomit and peered through the doorway.

  Naked bodies glistened in the shafts of moonlight streaming through the window. She was on top of him, her arms raised above her head as she dragged her fingers through her hair, groaning with desire. James. He rocked against her hard and fast, pushing his hips up from the bed. The moonlight backlit taut muscles, erect nipples. She grabbed at his chest and slid her arms around his shoulders, pulling him to her as their lips and tongues ran over one another.

  Hayden stumbled back from the doorway, tripping on a man’s shoe. He backed down the hall and crashed down the stairs and through the house.

  “Hayden?” Bernadette’s fearful voice sounded from the top of the stairs. “Oh God. Hayden, wait, please—”

  Struggling with the door, Hayden felt bile rocket up from his stomach and he retched on the carpet.

  Finally, the lock yielded. Hayden shoved the door aside and stumbled from the house, from the garden, and into the night.

  ~ Chapter 5 ~

  AN ALARM SOUNDED IN THE RECESSES OF HIS CONSCIOUSNESS AND HAYDEN CONVULSED ON THE GURNEY. HIS EYES snapped open and he was confronted by inky blackness. Disoriented, his mind raced, and for a moment, he forgot where he was. As a sudden panic threatened him, he coughed and spluttered and, almost without volition, his voice croaked into the darkness.

  “Berni?”

  With that single word, the memories crashed forth.

  Stifling another wave of nausea, Hayden felt for the watch that was hanging from the boom of an examination lamp above him. He squeezed the bezel, killing the alarm. He shook his head angrily, not wanting to believe what he’d witnessed last night. It had to be a bad dream. As he woke more fully, the truth assailed him and he knew. He hadn’t imagined it—any of it.

  Reaching up, he felt for the examination light and switched it on. Blinding light flooded the treatment room and he slapped the lamp away before slumping back on the gurney and rubbing his eyes. Squinting up at his watch, Hayden checked the time.

  6:30 a.m.

  He kicked himself up into a sitting position and swung his legs over the side of the gurney, taking a moment to allow the head spin to subside. He looked himself over.

  His clothes were rumpled and creased. Keys, lanyard, dog tags, and phone lay on a metal trolley beside him. His gaze lingered on the phone. A blue light winked above the darkened screen, indicative of messages or missed calls.

  Hayden slipped from the gurney, glancing around the small examination room. Giant cartoon hippos adorned one wall, mocking him. His bike leaned against a bench.

  He ambled across to the small sink and turned the cold tap, catching the water in his cupped hands and then plunging his face into it. The memories burned in his mind. He gripped the edge of the sink as hot tears mingled with the cold water on his cheeks. Lifting his head, he recoiled at his reflection in the mirror. Reddened eyes. Pale skin. Thick stubble he would otherwise have shaved. He was a mess and he was going to have to go on the floor in half an hour. He had to pull himself together.

  Why, Berni?

  He plucked a towel from a shelf and rubbed his hair and face. He found a small, disposable, children’s-sized toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste adorned with Dora the Explorer and brushed his teeth.

  Have I failed that badly?

  He shook the thought away, then peeled off his shirt and trousers and exchanged them for a pair of scrubs before grabbing his lanyard and slinging it around his neck. He stuffed his keys into his pocket and picked up his phone.

  He paused, staring at the device in his hand.

  Thumbing the home button, the screen to flashed to life and he blinked at the information on it.

  Eight missed calls.

  He shoved it into his pocket and stormed out of the treatment room.

  AS HAYDEN APPROACHED THE FISHBOWL, Magda was just starting her shift, as well. She looked up from a pile of medical records and knew right away something was wrong.

  One of the younger nurses, eager to off-load a newly-arrived patient, rounded a bench and held out a clipboard towards Hayden. Before she could reach him, however, Magda stood from her chair and blocked the nurse’s path. She took the folder.

  “Let me.”

  Ushering the nurse away, she picked up a cup from the desk and held it out to Hayden. “I’ve just made it,” she said.

  As he took the cup, he faltered, feeling his emotions swirl.

  Magda took a tissue from a box on the desk and gave it to him, averting her gaze. Her eyes drifted over his left hand, where the white indentation on his bare ring finger told her all she needed to know.

  Her lips tightened. “Take your time, son. I’ll go and bring in this Cat 4.”

  Hayden sipped the coffee, mind adrift. Bitter though it was, he was thankful for Magda’s kind gesture.

  HAYDEN LOST HIMSELF IN THE day’s work, though he sensed Magda hovering close by. She assisted him where she could and shielded him from any questioning from the other staff. He appreciated it and he appreciated her asking him only work-related questions. It was as though she knew that as long as Hayden was working, he was better off.

  Ainsley Rafter walked past sometime mid-morning, but Hayden kept his distance. He overheard him step up to Magda in the fishbowl and ask, “What’s up with Luschcombe?” As Hayden scribbled a note in a patient record, Rafter continued, unaware he had an audience. “The man has barely stopped. And I overheard some gossip suggesting he slept in one of the treatment rooms last night.”

  Magda didn’t bite. “Don’t know. He came to work and he’s working. As far as I’m concerned, he’s on top of things. He hasn’t allowed the waiting room to clog up, which is always refreshing.”

  Without waiting for Rafter to respond, Magda looked over his shoulder as a pair of ambulance officers wheeled in a gurney, on which sat a dishevelled woman cradling an inconsolable child. The woman pushed a long lock of multi-coloured hair from her face and wiped her running nose.

  Dressed in pyjama bottoms, a pair of grubby slippers, and a tank top that exposed tattooed arms, the new arrival scanned her surroundings through swollen red eyes. A man accompanied her, dressed in ripped track pants and a tight blue singlet, his own tattooed hand resting on her shoulder. He, too, surveyed the department as they entered, appearing nervous and agitated.

  Approaching the new arrivals, Magda noted the little girl’s legs, groin, and lower abdomen had been wrapped in cling film. The skin underneath was an angry red and, in some places, had begun to blister. Nodding over her shoulder, she directed them towards a cubicle as she took paperwork from the ambulance officer.

  “Thirteen-month-old female,” the officer began. “Parents were preparing to bathe the child this morning a
nd reported to us that they didn’t check the temperature of the water before placing her in the bath.” The officer paused as she wheeled the gurney into the cubicle. Magda stepped towards the anguished mother and encouraged her to relinquish her hold on her daughter. Magda lifted the child as the mother stood from the gurney and, curiously, stepped away into the embrace of her partner, rather than return to her daughter.

  Magda set the child down on the hospital bed as she took in the magnitude of the little girl’s injuries.

  The ambulance officer continued, assisting Magda with the IV fluids they had commenced. “Both parents say the child was in the water for less than thirty seconds.”

  Magda shot an incredulous glance at the officer, ensuring it was out of view of the parents as she spotted Hayden approaching. She rose to her full height as he entered and the officer turned to acknowledge him.

  Hayden moved to examine the child. Her eyes were closed and she was grizzling and whimpering.

  “How much analgesia is on board?” he asked the ambulance officer.

  “Initial dose of eighteen micrograms intranasal fentanyl given en route. We repeated the dose just prior to arrival.”

  Hayden surveyed the scalded and blistering legs, leaning over to see around their circumference. He noted several blisters had already popped behind her knees. The groin was also afflicted; the child’s vulva had begun to swell, and the skin had blistered and broken underneath the cling film. Hayden depressed his thumb to an unaffected area on the child’s hip. He attempted to rotate her body so he could see behind, but the child shook and he retracted his hand.

  Hayden turned towards the parents. “What time did this happen?”

  The mother glanced at her partner. “Th-this morning. About an hour ago.”

  “And what was the temperature of the water?”

  Again, the mother cast a nervous glance at her partner, who was now shifting from foot to foot. His jaw was set, he was grinding his teeth, and he glared at Hayden.